


What Feels Good

by ohmisterjapan



Series: Power Struggle [3]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-12-30 16:23:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18318941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmisterjapan/pseuds/ohmisterjapan
Summary: “Stand up,” he tells her and walks her in front of him. He unbuttons her dress, slowly, from the top down. It takes all his concentration not to tear it from her, to summon the dexterity from his long fingers on her small buttons. He unveils her body, inch by inch: her underwear is a pale mint green, he can see her nipples through the lace. She’s all pastel candy colours and he wants to snap her like a glow stick and watch her ignite neon. Her gaze follows his fingers, and as the last button is undone she shrugs the dress to the floor and looks down to her toes.





	What Feels Good

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I tried, but this was as soft as I could get him.

The dealership is empty. He’s not a stranger to lurking in empty buildings. In spaces that aren’t considered his. Spaces are like territory: they just need to be unlocked once. Still, he’s vaguely annoyed. He’s past the point of tracking her down. She should just _be there_ , they had an arrangement.

She’s absent from the kitchen too when he walks in. Everything is still and half-lit only by a small table lamp in the living room.

He turns down the short corridor that leads to her bedroom, and as he leans in to the room she hears him in the doorway and looks up, she’s facing him just long enough for him to notice that she’s crying before turning sharply away.

“I’ll go,” he’s abrupt.

“No, no,” she sniffs and blows her nose into the tissue she’s holding. She stands up, still facing away from him.

“You can stay,” she continues, and he watches her adjust herself: wiping her face, brightening her tone, adjusting her button up dress before she turns to him… and he’s in disbelief at the sorry state of this woman because he realises, _she’s trying to host me_.

“Nah nah nah,” he shakes his head sternly and moves towards her, placing a hand on her hip to guide her back to sit down on the bed, and he joins her. They’re sitting side by side and he’s trying to work out what to do with his hands when Elizabeth just leans into him, her head on his chest, he feels his stubble catch in her hair. He’s frozen for a second but then uses his arm behind her to pull her close. With his other hand, slowly, he reaches across himself to trace his fingers gently across her cheek, her skin is pink and cream like a painted doll, and he can’t place if the loathing he feels is for her or himself. He pulls his gaze away from her, _I can’t help you_.

They haven’t been together much recently, they haven’t been _close_. And he thinks she’s noticing this too because she inhales deeply and lets out a soft sigh. She nuzzles into him seeking comfort, smelling him, and moans a little.

“Be careful, ma,” his voice breaks as though he’s never spoken this softly before, as though it’s out of his range, because he’s stirring, despite himself, and this isn’t what she needs. Or even if it is he doesn’t know if he can carry the weight of it. Push them off the edge, into freefall, _just for the fuck of it?_ Nah.

“But it feels good,” she speaks into his chest, “I just want _something_ to feel good.”

He feels her light, warm words land against his skin through the fabric of his shirt. And, yeah, he _gets_ it. Knows what it’s like when you just want to be out of your head, and the strategy, and anxiety. And you’re not chasing power, you’re not role playing, and it’s not even about happiness it’s just about _letting go_ , for once, of who you are. _He gets it_. She _should_ have that, if she can, for a moment. Because he sure as hell knows it’s ain’t easy, being all the things she has to be. The things asked of her. The things _he’s_ asked of her.

“It feels good huh?” he smiles wryly, “okay.” He moves his hand from her cheek to tilt her face up by her chin so that he can see her eyes, she blinks at him, they’re still wet. “Alright.”

He doesn’t have to give himself but he can be there. He _wants her_ , after all. They want each other.

“Stand up,” he tells her and walks her in front of him. He unbuttons her dress, slowly, from the top down. It takes all his concentration not to tear it from her, to summon the dexterity from his long fingers on her small buttons. He unveils her body, inch by inch: her underwear is a pale mint green, he can see her nipples through the lace. She’s all pastel candy colours and he wants to snap her like a glow stick and watch her ignite neon. Her gaze follows his fingers, and as the last button is undone she shrugs the dress to the floor and looks down to her toes.

She’s standing in just her underwear now and he reaches up to brush her cheek with his fingers again. Runs his palm gently over her arm, and then reaches both hands out to hold her thighs in front of him. She puts her hands on his shoulders, pulls his head into her chest to cradles it, and smells his head. He tries not to think that _there was a time when he would have bitten_ ; sucked bruises into her soft breasts,  _still might, but not today_. She pushes him back again, so he’s looking up at her.

“You _should_ feel good,” he hears himself, his voice as it has been so many times before when he’s been looking down into her tearstained face. She reaches to unbutton his shirt.

“Does that feel good?” he asks. She nods her reply. “Okay. Good. You keep going.” and she’s unfastening his jeans now, pulling them from under his hips. She doesn’t need to speak, he thinks, not if she doesn’t want to.

“That’s it. It’s alright,” he says, allowing himself to be undressed by her.

She wraps her arms over his shoulders and pulls herself onto his lap. Her warm weight. All of her body. She’s soft and strong. She braces herself on him and he in turn leans back on the bed. She grinds down on him. Her underwear rubs uncomfortably on his cock, but he’s only slightly aware of the pain, and still he gets harder.

“Make yourself feel good, yeah?” he’s still gentle with her, but he hisses through gritted teeth as he grips her bare thighs.

She reaches behind herself to unclasp her bra, her breasts fall heavily in front of his face and he wants to devour her, to lick, suck and bite her, but instead he licks his lips, swallows, exhales low and slow, restraining himself. She steps back from him to pull off her panties and he watches her body, relieved that she’s out of reach of his hunger. When she moves back to him she aligns herself over his cock and holds his eye, brings her hand to her soft mouth, and licks the length of her middle and ring fingers with a wet tongue twice. She moves her hand down to wipe her saliva onto her pussy lips. Rio growls at that, he shifts her up so he can take his cock into his hand and rub the tip of it against her wetness. She _closes her fucking eyes_ and sinks herself down onto him slowly. He’s suspended in this state of exquisite intimacy – _take it from her_ , he thinks at the same time as he thinks _don’t_ – as she moves at a speed he cannot control.

She’s pulls herself up and starts riding him, rocking her hips back and forth, he feels her pussy grip him, holding him where she wants it. She’s hot, and tight, and so wet. She increases her speed and begins grinding her clit down into his pubic bone. She opens her eyes and is searching his face. _That’s not gonna be enough_ , he thinks.

“Say what you want,” he says, but she’s just holding his eye contact and sighing with her lips ever-so-slightly parted, so he licks his right thumb and rubs it over her clit and she nods.

“Okay,” he moves it in circles. “You just say if you want anythin’ else, huh?” She pulls his head to her nipple and he doesn’t hesitate in taking it into his mouth. He holds it very gently between his teeth and watches her face as he runs his tongue over it, pleased. With his left hand he gently holds the weight of her free breast and pinches the nipple. Her eyes close again.

She builds a rhythm and is grinding deeper now, and he needs to steady himself under her force. He uses his hands to grip her hips, leaving her clit. She whimpers, open her eyes.

“Okay, okay, sorry, sorry sweetheart,” and he teases with a smile, rubbing circles for her again, “I don’t have enough hands.”

She’s looking into his eyes like a scolded puppy. And it’s almost a cliché, how lost she is, like he’s the only thing that can guide her back.

So he reassures her, “Don’t worry I won’t do that again,” and she shakes her head.

“Okay,” he repeats, “I won’t ever do that again” and he looks deep into her eyes and they both know that doesn’t really mean anything but also that’s its exactly what she needs in that moment.

Maybe she _can_ be safe with him, he thinks as she loses herself for a second and her lips part and her breath becomes ragged, and he in turn loses himself in her face, licks his lips, takes in the sight of her flushed body, and he groans almost inaudibly. _I can be this for you right now, I can hold it all_ , he thinks.

“I got you,” he says, “You take what you need.”

She’s more frenzied now, her hair falling over her face, her hands gripping his shoulders and neck, a glow of sweat, her nipples pinched tight.

“I’d give you more if I could,” he says as he pulls down hard on the swell of her hip and grinds up into her, meeting her bounce with his full length deep inside her. She moans at the thought, like she doesn’t know if she even wants that.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” she’s high pitched now, speaking in whimpers.

“Yeah?” he growls.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He presses his face into her breast and sucks on her nipple hard, grazing it with his teeth and flicks his tongue over it, closing his eyes, suspending himself between the rhythms of his mouth, his thumb on her clit, and her grinding thrusts. Losing himself in pleasuring her.

She’s panting now, and digs her nails into his shoulders, he increases his pace and pressure, pulling on all of her, coaxing her orgasm out in crashing waves, her pleasured cries escaping into the room, and her voice fills his head like a bright white light.

Their faces come into focus to one another, she looks at him with a question.

“Don’t worry about me darlin’, I’m all good,” he smiles.

As she pulls away she feels his cum running from her, onto her inner thighs.

“See?” He winks.

She gives an out-of-breath laugh, “I missed our meeting.”

“Let’s do that downstairs, yeah?”


End file.
